Is there anything better than a swing?

Today I spent a while at the park with Maria and Brian (aka cutest godson ever). We went down the slides and we climbed up the steps several times. When Brian ran over to the swings, I got really excited since I hadn't been on the swings in about a decade! I put him on my lap and started to go. Eventually B wanted down, and Maria took him over to the baby swings. I couldn't help but linger a while on the "big kid swings". I swung my legs and it took me higher and higher. And then randomly, I thought of Mom. This seemed like the very thing she would have enjoyed immensely. There was something free and uninhibited in swinging that I am sure my mom would have just loved. I wish I was able to remember ever being on a swing with my mom, but I confess, I am not. Mom enjoyed the simple things in life, and maybe those were the only places it was available to her. Sometimes, I know that these thoughts just come to me and it must be written on my face. People probably think I am crazy, out there on the swings just grinning ear to ear. But it is in those moments that I see Mom the most. My mother, who wasn't afraid to be the only adult on the swings, laughing all the way...

One thing I can say with certainty...

I went out with a good friend from highschool last night, and we spent some time catching up about life and love and the pursuit of happiness. One thing leads to another and he asks me "How is the situation with your mom?". So I told him and we talked about how heartbreaking it is, and how many people we know and love are getting sick so early in their lives. Then he turns to me and asks "Were there any warning signs before she really started getting sick?". I told him that what I thought were early red flags, things I noticed long before the official diagnosis. I added though, that it would have been hard to pin any of that down because of the alcohol complicating things. He went stone-faced and said "That's what I thought. I have started noticing those things about my dad, he drinks and his grandfather had Alzheimer's." He went on to say that no matter how much his dad had messed up because of his drinking, he would be devastated if anything like that ever happened to him. He said he was trying to build memories with his parents now, no matter the situation, because eventually they will be gone. I thought about this for a moment, and I told him that my mom had made A LOT of mistakes over the years as well, largely due to the drinking. But I swear one thing I can say with certainty is that she still somehow managed to be an amazing mom.

She still showed up for every single dance recital, every game, every graduation (before the dementia symptoms got too severe), and even my wedding. I can never remember a single important event where she wasn't present if it was humanly possible for her to be there. Mom even came to my National Honor Society induction ceremony when many other students' parents did not. She loved being there for us, for every moment, and it started with her being a stay-at-home mom. I know it must have driven her out of her mind sometimes, being in the house all day, but she SO enjoyed Whitney and me with every breath she took. As many negative memories as I have and as much animosity I have harbored over the years about it, I could never say that my mom wasn't one of the best there ever was or will be. My sister and I have turned out to be smart, focused, driven, upstanding, strong, confident and independent women and I credit that 110% to the way that we were raised. Our parents may not have always gotten along with each other, and they both had their flaws, but I would love to raise my kids exactly as they did. I will never understand how someone who could hardly take care of herself could raise two children, and also make some heart-wrenching decisions and sacrifices for them. So, thank you, Mom. I would never trade a single second, and I would choose her as my mom 100 out of 100 times.

Something in the Way She Moves...

This was brought on by a completely random thing that I did today. I had a piece of chocolate and it was one of those delicious ones with the melting center. I was moving it between my tongue and roof of my mouth, and the way that my face looked I imagined was a lot like Mom's when she would eat something she was savoring. When she would taste something and she was trying to figure out what flavor or spice was in it, she would mull it around in her mouth and screw up her face in concentration. This is what I imagined my face to look like with the chocolate. Often, I will catch myself doing little things like that, and I will start laughing at the idea of her doing the same. Other times, when I am being silly, I will say or do a certain thing that will trigger a memory. Today, I was playing with Ruby, and she knocked me over. I just burst into laughter, called her a little monkey, and told her "don't!"(pronounced d-ah-nt) just like my mom would have. She laughed about everything, and I can just see her horsing around with Whitney and me even in Williamstown. It's funny because the person who picked up on these little things first was Ron. He spent a lot of time with Mom, and anytime I was being silly with him or the animals, he would say "Ok, Donna!" I don't think I would have really noticed this about myself if he wouldn't have pointed it out. I am fascinated by the fact that things as subtle as a laugh or a face can actually be passed down through generations.